Wingman rule number two: never reveal how much you want them. Lex hates Gabi. Gabi hates Lex. But, hey, at least the hate is mutual, right? All Lex has to do is survive the next few weeks training Gabi in all the ways of Wingmen Inc. and then he can be done with her. But now that they have to work together, the sexual tension and fighting is off the charts. He isn’t sure if he wants to strangle her or throw her against the nearest sturdy table and have his way with her. But Gabi has a secret, something she’s keeping from not just her best friend but her nemesis too. Lines are blurred as Lex becomes less the villain she’s always painted him to be…and starts turning into something more. Gabi has always hated the way she’s been just a little bit attracted to him—no computer-science major should have that nice of a body or look that good in glasses—but “Lex Luthor” is an evil womanizer. He’s dangerous. Gabi should stay far, far away. Then again, she’s always wanted a little danger.

a Rafflecopter giveawayRachel Van Dyken is the New York Times, Wall Street Journal, and USA Today Bestselling author of regency and contemporary romances. When she's not writing you can find her drinking coffee at Starbucks and plotting her next book while watching The Bachelor. She keeps her home in Idaho with her Husband, adorable son, and two snoring boxers! She loves to hear from readers! Want to be kept up to date on new releases? Text MAFIA to 66866! You can connect with her on Facebook www.facebook.com/rachelvandyken or join her fan group Rachel's New Rockin Readers. Her website is www.rachelvandykenauthor.com . FACEBOOK / TWITTER / GOODREADS / AMAZON AUTHOR PAGE / NEWSLETTER

I have lost everything. My purpose My love My soul Death knocks on my door, I want to answer, but every time I reach for the handle -- the promise I made her brings me back. So I breathe. I live. I hate. And I allow the anger to oil beneath the surface of a perfectly indifferent facade. I am broken, I don't want to be fixed. But the Empire is crumbling and it's my job to fix it. My job to mend the pieces that were scattered over thirty years ago. A trip to New York, only one chance to redeem a lost part of our mafia family. The only issue is, the only way to fix it, is to do something I swore I'd never do again. An arranged marriage. Only this time. I won't fall. Or so help me God, I will kill her myself. My name is Sergio Abandonoto, you think you know my pain, my suffering, my anger, my hate? You have no idea. I am the mafia. I am the darkness. Blood in. No out.

EXCERPT

Sergio looked ready to strangle me. “No. I don’t believe I asked for an annoying little sister, but if that’s what you’re offering, please don’t let me stop you. Just know, I won’t hesitate to put you over my knee if you get out of hand.” The minute the words left his mouth. I froze. He froze. The taxi driver stared little laser like holes into the rearview mirror. And Sergio leaned toward me. I swallowed as tension swirled around us. He gripped me by the chin and turned my head to the side, his lips brushing my ear. “It’s like you have a death wish.” “You wouldn’t do it.” He pulled back as both of his eyebrows shot up, and then he looked down, like he had spotted something. I followed the direction of his gaze and let out a little gasp as a gun dug into my stomach. “It’s been directed at you for the last four minutes,” Sergio said through a practiced smile. “I meant what I said. Listen well. I keep my word. Kiss me, and blood will be spilled.” “Y-you’re a crazy person!” I hissed, shoving at his chest. “And I wasn’t going to kiss you!” “Sure you weren’t.” He put the gun away. “Good talk though, right? Oh look, the movie theater.” To say that I scrambled out of the car like a kid running away from her kidnapper would be a gross understatement, but the minute my feet hit the pavement, I paused. My body told me to run. The guy had pulled a gun. On me. I didn’t even watch violent movies.

Get the beginning of Sergio's story in Elude

Twenty-Four hours before were were to be married--I offered to shoot her. Ten hours before our wedding--I made a mockery of her dying wish. Five hours before we were going to say our vows--I promised I'd never love her. One hour before I said I do--I vowed I'd never shed a tear over her death. But the minute we were pronounced man and wife--I knew. I'd only use my gun to protect her. I'd give my life for hers. I'd cry. And I would, most definitely, lose my heart, to a dying girl--a girl who by all accounts should have never been mine in the first place. I always believed the mafia would be my end game--where I'd lose my heart, while it claimed my soul. I could have never imagined. It would be my redemption. Or the beginning of something beautiful. The beginning of her. The end of us.

Rachel Van Dyken is the New York Times, Wall Street Journal, and USA Today Bestselling author of regency and contemporary romances. When she's not writing you can find her drinking coffee at Starbucks and plotting her next book while watching The Bachelor. She keeps her home in Idaho with her Husband, adorable son, and two snoring boxers! She loves to hear from readers! You can connect with her on Facebook www.facebook.com/rachelvandyken or join her fan group Rachel's New Rockin Readers. Her website is www.rachelvandykenauthor.com. FACEBOOK / TWITTER / GOODREADS / AMAZON AUTHOR PAGE / NE

THE DARK ONES is the first installment in a brand new stand alone series by Rachel Van Dyken… This paranormal romance has Genesis questioning everything she has ever been taught as she comes face to face with the immortals. Don’t miss out on this sexy read!

Rachel Van Dyken is the New York Times, Wall Street Journal, and USA Today Bestselling author of regency and contemporary romances. When she’s not writing you can find her drinking coffee at Starbucks and plotting her next book while watching The Bachelor.

She keeps her home in Idaho with her Husband, adorable son, and two snoring boxers! She loves to hear from readers!

Theyâre not kids anymore, but Milo Caro is certain that Colton Mathews will only see her as his best friendâs little sister for the rest of their lives. After all, he made that clear the night before she left for college. But four years later, her brother is getting married and Coltâs the best manâand guess who is the best manâs last-minute date?

Milo vows to use the wedding to either claim the smoldering firefighterâs heart or douse this torch for good. When Maxâher best friend from college, who may be carrying a torch of his ownâcrashes the party, they devise a plan to make Colt see what heâs missing. But after Colt catches on, he decides to cook up his own revenge.

With a jerk he had me in the bathroom under the stairs and closed the door. Words and sounds were coming out of his mouth but I couldnât make anything out. Max pushed me against the door and pointed his finger in my face. âIâm going to kiss you, damn it, and youâre going to like it. And Iâm going to take off my shirt and youâre going to manhandle me, and youâre going to stop being so damn nervous or so help me God Iâm going to bend you over that sofa in the living room and spank your sexy ass.â

Shocked, I was paralyzed in place. âWhere did that come from?â

âInside.â Max looked at me and smirked. âI have lots of feelings and Iâm sick and tired of you looking at me like I donât have a penis. I may be used to your innocence but for my own pride at least try to be attracted to me. Now close your damn eyes.â

âStop cursing at me.â

âStop being difficult! Iâm trying to help you. And stop squirming. Shit, take a Xanax or something.â

I tilted my head, you know, to get a better look. His skin was really smooth but bumpy, each muscle defined so much that there was enough of a ridge for my hands to play with.

âOh, look, heâs a man after all,â Max said, sounding bored. âIâm not your sexless friend. Iâm not your damn brother. Iâm not your gay friend. And I sure as hell am not thinking about anything right now except that your hands feel really good against my skin. So Iâm going to kiss you, and youâre going to respond like the idea of my mouth on yours doesnât make you want to cryâand youâll like it.â

âIâll like it,â I repeated.

âThereâs my girl.â His eyes flashed, and then he was kissing me again, only this time his body was on fire as it pressed against me. I felt every ridge of his abs; the length of his body was beyond devastating.

She's a light who makes my darkness darker, her smile makes my heart turn to ice, and I can't escape the fear her seductive looks instill--knowing it's only a matter of time before I fail--again, and take her for myself.

This is the story of my redemption.

But it's not pretty...I died, and now I'm alive, but not living, breathing but not surviving. I am Phoenix De Lange, son to a murdered mob boss, estranged brother, horrible friend, monster in the making, newest leader to one of the most powerful families in the Cosa Nostra.

Ember:A small piece of burning coal. Origin: Old English, Germanic. Example: All it takes is a one tiny piece of ember to start a flame, one small flame to burst forth into a fire. One spark, and a manâs world may implode from the inside out.

PROLOGUE

Phoenix

âDo it,â my fatherspat. âOr I will.â

I looked at the girl at my feet and back at my father. âNo.â

He lifted his hand above my head; I knew what was coming, knew it would hurt like hell but had no way to fight back â heâd already starved me of my food for the past three days for arguing, for trying to save the girl and her cousin.

His fist hit my temple so hard that I fell to the ground with a cry. The click of his boots against the cement gave me the only warning Iâd have as he reared back and kicked me in the ribs; over and over again he kicked. The girl screamed, but I stayed silent. Screaming didnât help; nothing did.

I waited until he was done â I prayed that he would kill me this time. I prayed so hard that I was convinced God was finally going to hear me and take me away from my hell. Anything was better than living. Anything.

âYou worthlessââ Another kick to the head. ââpiece of shit!â A kick to my gut. âYou will never be boss, not if you cry every time you must do the hard thing!â Finally, blessed darkness enveloped my line of vision.

I woke up from the nightmare screaming, not even realizing that I was safe, in my own bed. With a curse I checked the clock.

Three a.m.

Well, at least Iâd only had one nightmare â that Iâd remembered. Iâd been living with Sergio for the past week; his house was so big that Iâd basically taken the east wing, and heâd taken the West, said heâd hated living alone anyway. I wasnât stupid; I knew the guy wasnât exactly a big fan, but it worked. I needed to stay in the States while I figured shit out.

And I wasnât ready to leave. Not when I needed to learn all I could from Nixon. Not when I had responsibility.

And not when I had those black folders freaking burning a hole in my mind.

Luca hadnât just left me an empire; heâd left me secrets. I wasnât sure what was worse, knowing everything there was to know about those I was supposed to be protecting or knowing that at any minute one of them could turn on us.

âHey!â Bee barged into my room.

âDamn it!â I pulled the blankets over my naked body, my heart picking up speed at her tousled hair and bedroom eyes. Texâs sister, Texâs sister. My body wasnât accepting that â physically it wasnât accepting any information other than she was beautiful.

And it was dark.

I looked away, scowling.

âI heard screaming.â Bee took a step forward, her perfume floating off her body like an aphrodisiac or drug, making me calm, making me want something I had no business wanting.

âYeah, wellâ¦â I gave her a cold glance. ââ¦clearly Iâm fine, so you should go. Actually, why are you here? You know you live with Tex, right?â

She shrugged and sat on my bed. I clenched my fists around the blankets to keep from reaching out to her. It was getting harder and harder to ignore her warmth â when I lived in a constant state of near-death cold.

âHeâs with Mo, and they need privacy. Iâm not stupid. So I asked Sergio if I could move in for a while.â

âYou did what?â I asked in a deadly tone, one I was sure would probably give her nightmares later.

She grinned. âIâm your new roomie!â Bee bounced on the bed and sent me a shy look from beneath her dark lashes. âAdmit it, you miss our slumber parties.â

Rachel Van Dyken is the New York Times, Wall Street Journal, and USA Today Bestselling author of regency and contemporary romances. When she's not writing you can find her drinking coffee at Starbucks and plotting her next book while watching The Bachelor. She keeps her home in Idaho with her Husband and their snoring Boxer, Sir Winston Churchill. She loves to hear from readers! You can follow her writing journey at www.rachelvandykenauthor.com